


i came to win or lose with you

by geneeste



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, OTA, Original Team Arrow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2015-11-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 22:14:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5222927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geneeste/pseuds/geneeste
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he tugged gently on her hand to pull her up. “You know, we never actually got to dance tonight.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	i came to win or lose with you

**Author's Note:**

> Just a simple speculation/wish fic for 4x07. I hope you enjoy! Title taken gratefully from Dessa's "It's Only Me."

Oliver had just walked the last donor out when he came back to find Felicity sitting at the bar, sleepily propping her head up by a hand under her cheek. She had her legs crossed, one foot hanging freely as she swung idly back and forth on the barstool.

With her hair still up and the lights twinkling off the beads on her dress, Oliver thought she looked more beautiful then than she had at any other time during the night.

Following the pull he felt any time he was near her, he moved close to her side and laid his hand against her warm lower back. “Hey.”

“Hey,” she replied, tilting her head to look up at him through her eyelashes. She slid her hand up his arm and pulled until the stool twisted her legs into his hip. “I think you were a total success tonight, Candidate Queen.”

He hummed when she squeezed his bicep. “Somehow.”

She caressed his arm again, and he couldn't help but sigh and relax into it. “I know exactly how,” she said warmly. “By being the man who cares about this city and who is willing to put himself on the line for it. You showed them that, Oliver.”

Not knowing how to respond to that through the swell of feeling in his chest, he leaned in and kissed her temple instead. Around them, the waitstaff and cleaning crew were starting their work. A quiet strain of music played over the ballroom’s sound system, accompanying the sound of plates being stacked and silverware clinking together.

A thought suddenly occurred to him, and he tugged gently on her hand to pull her up. “You know, we never actually got to dance tonight.”

Felicity huffed, amused. “I think we both know that’s for the best. Who knows what kind of damage I could have done to your campaign with my moves.”

He grinned at her. “Well, now we have music and an empty room. We shouldn't let that go to waste.”

She eyed the staff working to clear the last vestiges of the fundraiser away. “Oliver, really.”

Still smiling, he pulled on her hand again. “Come on, one dance,” he said, silently willing her to humor him.

Shaking her head, this time she did slip off the barstool and follow him to the empty space in front of the tables.

He dropped her hand only to shrug off his tuxedo jacket and lay it over the back of a chair, then quickly pulled her into arms before she could change her mind.

They swayed lazily in the middle of the floor, as close as they could be without scandalizing any of the staff who could see them.

Oliver enjoyed the chance to just hold her, to appreciate her body pressed lightly against him, the weight of her hand in his. It was nice to do this out in the open, not having to hide or showcase anything. To just _be_ , even for a few minutes. 

She looked up at him, and he knew from the way her mouth curled that he had a dopey look on his face. “You’re such a sap.”

He smiled at her and hugged her closer. “Guilty.”

“A lovable sap, though,” she corrected herself, wrapping her fingers around a suspender that he'd worn just because he knew she loved them. “Very lovable.”

They'd stopped moving for a moment, and Felicity took the opportunity to stretch up on her toes and kiss him. It was a light kiss, chaste even, but it made warmth spread out from his lips to his chest and beyond.

Out of the corner of his eye, Oliver saw Diggle step into the room from the main entrance and smile at them knowingly. 

“You two about ready to call it a night?” Diggle asked out softly, respectful of the mood.

Oliver sighed, reluctant to let her go, but he did anyway. Felicity smoothed a hand down the front of his dress shirt, and then made her way toward their friend.

Diggle held up the pair of flats she'd left in the car earlier in the night. “Figured you'd want these.”

Felicity crowed happily. “John Diggle, you are my hero.”

“Hey now,” Oliver grumbled jokingly, grabbing his coat on his way to them. 

Diggle held out an elbow for her to balance on while she changed out of her heels. “Bring a girl comfortable shoes after a long night of asking people for their money, and you can share the title.”

Diggle sent him a triumphant look, and Oliver made a point of exaggerating a glare in response. 

It worked - Felicity laughed. “Let's go, boys.”

She kept a hold of Diggle’s elbow, shoes dangling by their straps from her pinky, as they walked out of the ballroom and shuffled onto the waiting elevator. She slipped her other hand into Oliver’s and rested her head on his shoulder as they rode it down, and he was struck with a fleeting sense of rightness. 

He wanted to grab ahold of it, keep some of it in reserve for the hard times they all knew were coming. Instead, the elevator dinged and the doors opened onto the lobby, and the three separated as they stepped out.

And they went home.


End file.
